


Dark and Light

by Hoodoo



Category: School of Rock (2003), School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Animal Death, Biting, Blood and Gore, Chapters have different endings, Dark, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Vampire Bites, hunger, light - Freeform, mentions of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: You find Dewey in an odd, compromising position, and some truths come evident.
Relationships: Dewey Finn & Reader, Dewey Finn/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 12





	1. Introduction

There are some Dewey Finn AUs floating around; some people perked their ears up when I tossed the words “vampire Dewey” out onto the internet. So I wrote one.

Then I felt I needed to write another. You’ll understand why.

So two Dewey Finn AUs today; Vampire (Dark) and Vampire (Light). 

Mature rating for both. Also blood and disturbing imagery for both. While they both start the same, they end decidedly different. If darkness or light is not your preferred flavor of tea, they’re labeled under their individual chapters.


	2. Dark

You found him huddled in the corner of the green room. Or what passed as the green room in this shitty dive of a bar: a small space that must have once been a closet, evidenced by the faucet and drain the corner opposite him.

“Dewey?” you asked quietly. “What’s going on? Everyone else has left, you need a ride home?”

He was hunched over with his back to you. Was he crying? It’s been a good set out there, even if most patrons were drunks and didn’t seem to care one way or another that a live band was playing. You took a step closer, and he turned his head to look at you.

His eyes flashed an odd color–silver?–as they caught the light. That occupied a smaller part of your brain than the rest of his face. His mouth and jaw were coated in blood, like it’d been smeared from one cheek to the next.

“Jesus! Dewey, are you hurt?! What happened?!” you exclaimed, taking two big steps to be at his side.

Dewey wasn’t the most physical of guys, despite his desire to be known as a badass. If someone had thrown a punch and broken his nose or split his lip, you were going to personally hunt them down.

Reaching for his shoulder, you got close enough to see in front of him.

Clutched in his hands was a rat. Part of what had once been a rat, your stunned eyes took in: its abdomen had been torn open and gnawed into. Strings of innards hung from it, glistening wetly in the overhead light. Blood covered his hands and bits of fur littered the floor between his knees. You had a hard time dragging your gaze away from the carnage in he held.

_“I’m so hungry,”_ he sobbed.

You were frozen. You had no reference for what was on display before you, and you realized you hadn’t yet put your hand on him. Standing with it outstretched, it shook. With effort you dropped it to his shoulder.

“Hey, Dewey, sweetie, let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll get you something to eat, okay? Something not … that.”

He looked back at what he held limp in his hands, and he flung it away like it startled him.

“I’m so hungry,” he repeated. 

You squeezed his shoulder to comfort him and urged him to his feet, wondering if he was having some kind of mental breakdown. “We’ll find something to eat. I promise.”

He got to his feet and stood close in your personal space. You usually didn’t mind, he had always been a close talker, but the smell of copper wafted from him. Not only was blood smeared around his mouth but some had dripped onto his shirt, making the faded black of the concert tee darker. With disgust, you realized there were bits of fur dried to his cheeks too, from where he obviously had bitten into the rat.

You were going to have to call the police or EMTs or someone. This wasn’t right.

Dewey didn’t reply to your promise. His chin dropped and he looked at you from under his brows. A smile slid oily across his face.

With no other warning, he grabbed you by your upper arms and shoved you against the wall. There wasn’t much space in this closet, but he used enough force that your head bounced painfully off it and knocked the breath out of you. Automatically, you struggled against his grip.

“Dewey, what the fuck?! Dewey-–!”

The increased volume in your voice was negated when a bloodied calloused hand clamped over your mouth. That freed one of your arms, and your pushed against him, but it was like trying to move a tree. He actually stepped closer, pressing your body between the wall and his, pinning you in place. Once planted there, he didn’t budge, no matter how much you struggled against him.

His grin widened. You’d always liked his smile; it was cute and lit up his whole face. This was markedly different, however: excited with a touch of feral glee, like this was a game of predator and prey and he was winning.

Your eyes widened as he leaned closer. Panic flooded you; you’d never been in a situation like this and that it was Dewey Finn that was causing it was unfathomable. His hand over your mouth and nose made it difficult to breathe; in its flight or fight response your lungs demanded more air that you couldn’t get.

Dewey licked his teeth. With a painful amount of force he twisted your head to one side, almost putting your cheek on your shoulder. Without another second’s hesitation, without any regard to the tears that had flooded your face, he cocked his head. 

Quick as a snake, he latched onto your neck.

Despite being pinned, despite not having nearly enough air, you screamed through his hand. The pain was unbelievable: a wash of white agony that exploded outward from where his teeth took a chunk out of you. You writhed and flailed under his iron grip, but he was too strong. Your free hand came up in a parody of passion, wrapping around and grabbing at his head to try and get him off you.

He was not dislodged. 

Try as you might to fight him off, he took what he wanted.

It was nothing like vampires from books written for teenagers. It was pain. It was the wet sound of him swallowing as fast as he could. It was feeling too hot at first, and then a chill creeping into your extremities the longer it went on. It was your throat becoming raw from screaming. It was him growling and biting deeper into your flesh, shaking his head like a dog as if that would make you bleed faster. 

Any person who willingly bared their flesh to one and held them in ecstasy as they drank their fill was a liar. You held onto him because you were growing weak, not because it was orgasmic. 

When Dewey finally pulled his mouth away from you, he was awash in more blood than he drank. His lower face and neck were coated; your blood had soaked into his shirt. Yours too; the fabric felt cold and tacky and stuck to your chest.

He looked into your face; you could barely keep your eyes open. When his hand finally released your mouth, you had no energy to scream. A fresh smile crossed his face, one you were familiar with: happy and sweet. There was new disturbing twist to it now: Sated. 

Dewey put his head close to your ear. You couldn’t even flinch away.

“Thanks, baby,” he whispered sweetly to you.

His tongue dragged through the wounds he’d left on your neck and he sucked there again. You moaned, but couldn’t stop him.

He let you go, and you sank to the floor. You were warm again, wasn’t that odd? This floor was comfortable too. You were going to sleep so well here.

Just before your eyes slid shut, you watched Dewey splash water onto his face from the faucet, and scrub his hands together. Without another word or glance back at you, he left, flicking the light off behind him.

It was dark in this small space now, but not as dark as behind your eyelids. 

_fin_


	3. Light

You found him huddled in the corner of the green room. Or what passed as the green room in this shitty dive of a bar: a small space that must have once been a closet, evidenced by the faucet and drain the corner opposite him.

“Dewey?” you asked quietly. “What’s going on? Everyone else has left, you need a ride home?”

He was hunched over with his back to you. Was he crying? It’s been a good set out there, even if most patrons were drunks and didn’t seem to care one way or another that a live band was playing. You took a step closer, and he turned his head to look at you.

His eyes flashed an odd color–silver?–as they caught the light. That occupied a smaller part of your brain than the rest of his face. His mouth and jaw were coated in blood, like it’d been smeared from one cheek to the next.

“Jesus! Dewey, are you hurt?! What happened?!” you exclaimed, taking two big steps to be at his side.

Dewey wasn’t the most physical of guys, despite his desire to be known as a badass. If someone had thrown a punch and broken his nose or split his lip, you were going to personally hunt them down.

Reaching for his shoulder, you got close enough to see in front of him.

Clutched in his hands was a rat. Part of what had once been a rat, your stunned eyes took in: its abdomen had been torn open and gnawed into. Strings of innards hung from it, glistening wetly in the overhead light. Blood covered his hands and bits of fur littered the floor between his knees. You had a hard time dragging your gaze away from the carnage in he held.

_“I’m so hungry,”_ he sobbed.

“Oh Dewey,” you sighed, dropping to a squat beside him, rubbing his shoulder. “Don’t eat rats. We’ve talked about this, remember?”

He nodded quickly, like he was ashamed, but his eyes went back to the dead rodent in his hand and you could feel the tension in his arm. You know that because you were here, he was trying hard not to go back to the paltry meal.

Gently you slipped your hand down to his forearm and gave him a gentle squeeze. He tensed more and cocked his head towards you with a direct stare, a low growl escaping him as his lips lifted in warning. You sighed again. Sometimes primal urges could be hard to overcome.

“I’m not going to take your rat, Dewey,” you assured him. “I just thought that it’s not enough, you know? Why don’t we head home and then you’ll get something that’s better and filling, okay?”

His brow furrowed and he glanced at what he held limp in his hands, hunger warring with the rational thought of a better meal, before he flung it away like it startled him.

“I’m so hungry,” he whispered.

“I know, baby. I know,” you soothed, wrapping him into a hug. You didn’t remind him that you’d mentioned he needed to eat before going out tonight; he’d been too excited to get back up on stage. “Let’s get home and–hey!”

He nuzzled into your neck, which simultaneously tickled and grossed you out due to the rat’s blood he smeared on you. His tongue gave you a lick, and although that felt nice, you wrapped your arm around his head and forced him away for a moment, despite his whine at being dislodged.

“Not here, Dewey! Let’s go, and if you want, once you’re cleaned up, you don’t have to use my neck, okay?”

You threw your glance down to your leg. Dewey’s bright eyes followed your gaze, and latched onto the favorite spot on your inner thigh he’d opened up and drunk from before. You preferred that too, with him between your legs, because after he was sated and feeling indulgent, he usually finished by moving up to your groin, and receiving oral sex while slightly weak from moderate exsanguination was a kink you’d never been aware you had till he’d turned.

“Come on,” you told him, standing up and pulling him to his feet too. “We can sneak out the back to my car, then it’s straight home.”

He nodded meekly, and you hurried him out as quickly as possible to your vehicle. You’d get him cleaned up and fall into bed with him. Your heart rate increased–which you knew he’d heard, by the look of raw arousal he fixed you with–at the thought of it. It’d never occurred to you that sweet Dewey Finn as a vampire would be something you’d be okay with, but you couldn’t wait to get him home. 

_fin_


End file.
